


Scars of Panem

by Nathamuel



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nathamuel/pseuds/Nathamuel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The games are over, the scars remain.<br/>~<br/>Each of this chapters is an independent story about one of the characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Johanna

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has any warnings they want me to add, please don't hesitate to tell me. :)

Her hand was already shaking when she turned on the faucet and let the water fill the tub in a steady stream. At this point she wasn't even sure if the fear she felt - and which she would deny if asked - was because of the nearness of the water or the looming threat of what she was planning to do. Maybe she should do it another day, there was enough time, no rush. She stared down at the clear fluid, so innocent looking and unbidden the words of the therapist rose up in her memory, almost mocking her. 

'You have to face your fears, Johanna. You are safe, Johanna.'

Well, it certainly didn't fucking feel like being safe. She snarled at the water that was slowly rising and filling the tub, clear and rippling, disturbed by the jet. 

It wasn't like she didn't know that the chance was small that the water would spontaneously electrify itself, but it was of the Capitol's design so who knew. Johanna squashed down that thought but to no avail. She still felt it hovering at the edge of her awareness, mocking her like the water was mocking her. Anything of the Capitol had the potential of becoming deadly... 

Enough of this! These thoughts that only revealed her weakness and made her falter in her plan!

With jerky and rough movements she fumbled with the rope that held her gown closed and yanked it out. She threw the fabric to the floor alongside her gown, kicking both to the side into a little heap against the wall. 

Naked, she stood on the cold tiles, goose bumps rose on her skin, and oh how she hated that her body trembled just by being near the water, close enough to touch. Johanna glared down at the offending element. 

She wouldn't let Snow win this last round. 

Johanna sighed, calming herself, pushing down the familiar rage that was her loyal companion. At least she was alone and no one could see her. With Beetee's help she had disabled each and every bug and camera that still had been in her house. Now she was truly alone; no one there to see her succeed or fail. 

When the water had half-filled the tub she cut off the stream and quickly she knelt down. There was no sense in wasting time, her fear wouldn't disappear on its own, at least not if her therapist was to believe. Johanna scoffed at the thought of her therapist, not like he had any experience of his own. He had never been a tribute, he had never mentored them and never been in the tender hands of the Capitol's torturers, so what the fuck did he even know about any of it.

Johanna took a deep breath.

The porcelain was cold against her skin when she braced her forearms on it. Only the best for the victors, she thought. One corner of her mouth lifted in a mirthless smile. 

She let one hand slip down to rest on the water's surface. It was warm, unlike the water they had used. Her mind shied away from the memory even though she dreamed of it every night, dreams of being held down in water and electrocuted, intermixing with her games. Sometimes she was the one holding other tributes down and shooting bolts of electricity through their bodies and watching them jerk under her hands. 

The water rippled from the shaking of her hands she could not control. She felt sick to her stomach, blood rushing in her ears. But she made herself break the surface, submerging her hand to the wrist. 

This was still the easy part. 

She closed her eyes and laid her forehead against the porcelain of the tub's rim, letting it cool her skin, a contrast to the water she welcomed. A distraction. After a moment's hesitation she pushed her arm in until she was submerged to her elbow, fingertips resting against the bottom of the tub. Another few inches in and the water lapped at her biceps. Her breath left her in a shuddering rush. 

This is ok, she told herself. This is ok. I'm fine. I'm not broken.

Johanna rose and braced both her hands on the sides of the tub and lifted one leg, putting her foot in the water. The warmth felt good but she almost didn't notice. Her senses seemed to narrow down to the wetness around her foot and the gentle sound the water made against the porcelain, the drip-drip-drip of the faucet. It was almost deafening. 

The lump in her throat made it hard to swallow, but she did, putting her other foot into the water as well. Another sound penetrated the air but she couldn't focus on it. 

Her knees shook and she lowered herself so she wouldn't fall. The water crept up her body to her waist as she sat down. The sound in the air made more sense now, little whimpers from her own throat and she made a low guttural cry in anger. She was not weak and would not let mere water make her so. She wouldn't let Snow win, never, not even in death! Even if it killed her. 

Johanna bared her teeth. The words of her therapist crept forward from the back of her mind and she held onto them, clutching them close to her heart and her sanity. 

'You're safe, Johanna.' 

Snow was dead and so were her torturers. She was far away from the Capitol, she reminded herself. The trembling didn't lessen, she couldn't stop it, but still she lowered herself down further into the water, letting it cover her skin until only her face was still dry. Her ears were submerged and under the surface she could hear the rush of the blood in her ears and the little whimpers that her mouth emitted. With effort she made herself stop. Water lapped at the corners of her eyes and she squeezed them shut, keeping the water out and the tears in. 

'You're safe, Johanna.'

She held her breath and pushed herself down the last few inches. Already she knew that it was the wrong thing to do, but it was too late, too late to turn back. The water closed over her mouth, her eyes, her nose. The back of her head touched the ground of the tub. Her world narrowed down, shutting everything out until she could hear and feel nothing but the water. The blood pounded in her ears, she was fully enclosed, surrounded, except where her knees poked out and were chilled by the air. She felt so cold. The water calmed around her, settled until it didn't move at all. Johanna watched bubbles from her mouth rise to the surface, disturbing it. 

1… 2… 3…

The scream built in her before she could stop it. Hands held her down and through the roar in her ears she could hear them jeer. Her vision blurry through the water she could see them as they watched her jerk against the restraints as the electricity coursed through the water and into her and it hurt, it hurt, it hurt. Water flooded her mouth and nose and she choked, scrambling at the smooth surface of the porcelain and suddenly she could break free of the water's hold. She could think nothing, focus on nothing. She wasn't safe. They were there. They would come. 

There were noises like a panicking animal coming from her own throat, her knees hit the tiles as she coughed and gasped for breath. She wanted to curl up, but the drip-drip-drip was too loud, too close, and no doubt her torturers were close. They would put her back into the water. She moved and her legs wouldn't support her, so she crawled until the tiles changed to wood, changed to soft carpet under her palms and the dripping sound was faint. 

Her back found a wall and she wrapped her arms around her knees and shuddered, hiding her face, listening for the sound of footsteps. Her tormentors didn't like her leaving the water before they were done but there was nothing except the hammering of her heart and the clattering of her teeth and the rush in her ears that made her dizzy. 

Her breath hitched in her throat and when nothing happened she uncovered her eyes enough to look around. The living room was silent. It was hers. She was alone. 

The sun was shining outside, falling in through the spacious windows and stinging in her eyes. There was the trilling of the birds of the forest that surrounded the Victor's Village. Close by stood a loveseat someone had bought for her and for a moment she stared at it, uncomprehending and then she crossed the distance separating them on her hands and knees and pulled her shaking body on top of it. There was a duvet Annie had sent her sometime, she had no idea why because they weren’t close, but she was glad for it now, and she wrapped it around her naked, trembling form. 

She rested her body against the window sill and looked outside, up at the tall tree that stood there. The wind rustled in the leaves, overshadowing the drip-drip-drip she could still faintly hear from the bathroom. She made herself concentrate on the leaves, on the wood that was her home.

She wished for the little sack with pine needles Katniss had given her, that she loved to bury her nose in, but it was somewhere in her bedroom and she felt too weak to get up just yet. Any way the breeze carried that scent to her.

Tomorrow she would try again. 

She wouldn't let Snow win.


	2. Finnick

Finnick was throwing a ball back and forth with his son when he saw the car. They stood in the sea and the water just reached Finnick's waist. His son swam as quick as a fish around him and jumped up and caught the ball, falling back into the water with a splash and a happy laugh with the toy clutched to his chest. Finnick joined the laughter. 

While his son was submerged Finnick looked up at the house he shared with Annie, which stood on a dune overlooking the ocean. He had hoped to see her on the porch, looking down at them. Maybe he could get her to join them on the beach, even if she didn't join them for a swim. From his position he instead saw a Capitol's hover car drive up to their home. 

Everything froze inside of him. Time seemed to slow to a crawl and he didn't even notice the ball sailing over his head or the scared little "Dad?" that followed from his son. The edges of his vision grew dark and fuzzy.

They had come to take him to the Capitol again. 

They had come even though they had promised to warn him beforehand, to warn his mother beforehand so she could send his siblings away for the duration of the Capitol's visit. So they wouldn't have to see their brother be taken away or hear the dirty jokes his escorts would tell around him, the innuendos to his sexual prowess that was legendary in the Capitol but not at home. Never at home. The heated looks and shy glances his escorts would send him, full of unspoken promises and barely veiled greed that begged for his attention. Attention that they would never get. 

At home he was supposed to be safe.

But sometimes they liked to come unannounced. The reasons were usually a client that had paid well; a client who was high enough up in the Capitol's food chain that nothing like that mattered. Promises didn't mean anything to Snow. He just wanted to fuck Finnick and other victors over to assert his superiority, as often as possible. A soft sob escaped Finnick and he trembled, balling his hands into fists.

Standing half behind a couple of bigger rocks that peaked out of the ocean they wouldn't be able to see him, not yet. Finnick would have time to get a hold of himself. His heart seemed determined to beat its way out of his chest and his breath was too quick. An unattractive sheen of sweat and salt water covered his body and they wouldn't like the chalky tone of his skin. Get a grip of yourself, Finnick chided himself, this is nothing that hasn't happened before. You should be used to it by now.

He would have to make himself presentable or they would bitch at him, or worse, they could go to Snow and tell him that Finnick wasn't trying hard enough, wasn't pretty enough, not attractive enough to please his clients. Snow would punish his family in Finnick's place if he failed. 

Right now his mother would make small talk with the visitors to buy her son time and so would his dad.  
Finnick belatedly wondered if the scars on his body and face, courtesy of the mutts that almost killed him, would make him even more famous and desirable or less and if they would send him to a surgeon soon when a small hand carefully touched his.

"Dad?" a small voice asked.

Finnick startled so badly he attacked without thinking, something he thought he had gotten under control. Clients didn't like being attacked. But the body was smaller and more agile than he anticipated and swam out of reach and Finnick couldn't move well with the water enclosing his legs. Why was he in the sea? There had been but little water in his games, not an ocean like this, no beach.

"Dad!" his son cried and Finnick looked at him stupidly. For a moment he couldn't place that face and voice. 

Then Finnick let out a harsh sob and stumbled back as the reality came crashing back.

"Dad? Do you need me to get mom? I can look who's visiting us, too." his son said in a rush and it pained Finnick to see that wary and scared look on his face. He had put that look there. Finnick felt ill.

"Yes." Finnick said faintly. He couldn't say any more as his throat seemed to close up and trap all words in his chest. If he opened his mouth now he would scream. He wanted to scream. 

"You're safe here, Dad." his son promised timidly, face pale and scared, and turned, swimming to the beach and bounding up the hill.

Finnick watched him go. A part of him commented snidely 'That's not right. You should be the one to go up there. What if he's taken away? You're a terrible father.  
What if this would be the new way of the Capitol to punish Victors? It wouldn't be just him anymore who would be sold but your children, too, your whole family. Fuck a victor and get one of his blood for free.'  
Finnick shuddered, gasping. He couldn't breathe for the tightness in his chest.

The Capitol promised him a peaceful life but instead Finnick got fucked by the highest bidders.

Panic clawed at Finnick but he couldn't move. He wanted to call his son back, hide him in the sea so the Capitol wouldn't get him, but his legs felt rooted to the spot. The sand was soft under his feet and he would have enjoyed it at any other time. It didn't matter now. There was no seaweed but it still felt like some was wrapped around his legs.

Up by the house the car pulled away and drove off.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Finnick hadn't seen anyone leave. Who had stepped into the car? Had they taken Annie or his son? Both?

If he couldn't move his legs he would never know, so Finnick stepped forward, resting a hand on the jagged rocks beside him to steady him when his legs shook so hard under him he would have fallen.

He looked up towards his goal. Just then he saw a figure walk down the dune towards him, small and swamped in an overgrown sweater. One of his. 

Annie.

Finnick's legs almost buckled under him again for different reasons. Relief crashed over him. He clutched at the rocks and watched her come closer. How he wanted to run to but he didn't trust his body. She looked relaxed if a little tense, but not like something terrible had happened. 

She arrived at the beach, walking through the sand towards him. Her eyes swept over him, judging his state. Finnick could hear how loud his breath was but he was unable to calm down, watching as she crossed over the rocks, which were forming a crooked line from the beach into the sea, with short jumps. She gasped when she slipped, making sure not to come into contact with the water and stopped at his side. Annie's breath was elated as well when she sat down at the edge of the flat rock beside Finnick but she still folded her legs under herself before she leaned forward to touch Finnick. He was proud of her. 

When she placed her hand on his cheek, her skin was warm while Finnick felt frozen. Finnick realized that tears were rolling down his face.

"I'm fine." he whispered and didn't know why he was telling this to Annie of all people.

"Don't lie to me." she said just as quietly and he stepped closer to her. The rocks dug into his stomach and he leaned his forehead against her thigh.

"We don't lie when it's just us." she reminded him. Her hands carded through his hair while he trembled and put his arms around her waist. The rocks were cold and sharp against his skin. He didn't even notice.

Annie hummed under her breath, the sound merging with the noises of the sea he loved so much, and didn't tell him that it was alright. Instead she kept him company while his heart slowly calmed and his tears soaked her clothes. Finnick shook. He clutched at Annie, gripping the fabric of her sweater in his fists. She leaned over him, shielding him from the world.

They had done this a hundred times already.

"They were messengers of district 13." Annie explained when Finnick rested against her only for the sake of resting, drawing in her smell and rubbing his nose back and forth over the fabric of her pants because he knew she was slightly ticklish. She chuckled softly and tugged at one of his ears in retaliation. Her muscles were tense under his face, courtesy of the closeness of the water. He felt sorry to have put her in this situation. It was like she had read his mind when she tugged a little harder on his ear, like she was chiding him for his foolishness.

"Just the annual checkup to see how we're doing." she continued after a while.

"What did you tell them?" Finnick asked and finally raised his head to look at her. Her eyes were flashing angrily.

"I told them that we're not planning any revolutions." she quipped. Finnick chuckled. Every year district 13 checked up on them. The new government was better now but they didn't quite trust the remaining victors either. They were better than President Snow though, which wasn't hard. For the most part they left Finnick and Annie and the other survivors alone. 

Finnick laid his head back down on Annie's thigh and closed his eyes.

"Take a swim with me?" he asked when he felt fully like himself again. Something like fear, closely followed by anger that was turned inward, passed over Annie's face when he looked at her and she shook her head. Finnick hadn't really expected differently. There were some things that took more times to overcome than others. 

"Not today. Let's go back to the house." she said and Finnick stepped back from her, already missing her body against his. He took her hand and tilted his head up to smile at her.

"Ok." he said.

Annie got to her feet, keeping her hold on his hand and they moved towards the beach. It was a little awkward with one of them walking through the water and the other hopping from rock to rock but they managed to keep their hold on one another's hand.


End file.
